


Untold Tales from Tamriel

by Andauril



Series: Heroes of Tamriel [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, i suck at summaries for os collections so i just don't have one, non chronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:47:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/Andauril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Serana comforts Liv after a nightmare.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightingaleTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleTrash/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serana comforts Liv after a nightmare.

Liv awoke with a start. 

Immediately, she felt the cold creeping under her blankets. The fine hairs on her forearms tingled as they rose. 

She could only hear the sound of her own breathing in the small tent, and the panels seemed to close in around her. Like a shroud wrapped around her … 

Frantically, she run her fingers along her arms, her sides, her throat. Nothing. There was nothing. 

She was fine. Everything was fine. It was over. She was still breathing, and she didn’t feel a sudden craving for fresh blood, which meant … 

Liv drew a long, deep breath and wrapped herself back into her blankets.

The chill wouldn’t leave. 

For a while, she tossed and turned under the sheets, trying to force sleep back, but it was no use. Everytime she closed her eyes, she found herself back at the chapel. She found teeth as sharp as needles snatching at her throat. 

Eventually, she gave it up and rose, pushed the panels aside and crawled outside into the cold. It was even worse than inside the tent, but the chill brought life back into her limbs. It almost hurt, like needles driven into her skull that drove the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.

Almost …

“Liv? Everything alright?” 

Liv nodded, she just moved to the side a bit. The snow beside her crunched a bit as Serana sat down. 

“Why don’t I believe you? You’re paler than me, and that’s something.”

Liv barked out a laugh. “It’s nothing. Really.” 

As if talking with Serana about her dead father was a good idea. Especially since Harkon wasn’t even among the truly dead for a day. When she looked north, she could almost see the castle in the distance (of course that wasn’t possible, the castle was hidden by magic, even now with Harkon dead, but still). 

“It’s about my father, isn’t it?”

“Is mind-reading a vampire thing?”

Serana chuckled. “Just an educated guess … So it is about Harkon.”

“It shouldn’t … I didn’t have nightmares about Alduin. This just doesn’t make any sense.” 

“These things don’t always make sense.” Serana shook her head. “I mean, is it strange that I feel so … He became obsessed with the prophecy, he would’ve sacrificed me and my mother for it! We were a family, and yet he found his dream of ruling over mankind more important than us! He needed to be stopped. I know that. There was never another way. And yet … is it strange that I feel about it? After all, he still was my father …” 

“And he tried to rip my throat open with his teeth. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant to just … turn me.” 

“Oh … You’re not … feeling different, are you? Weaker?”

Liv shook her head. “No. It was … pretty close call, though. But I’m fine. But when I woke up …”

“I do have potion with me, if that would make you feel better.” 

Liv nodded. “Later, maybe. I … sorry.” 

“For what? Using up a portion I don’t need anyway? I can’t get sick anymore, Liv.”

“It’s not that.” Why was this so difficult? She glanced over to Serana … her porcellain white skin, almost as pale as the snow. The amber eyes, glinting in the dark. Sharp fangs, glistening as she spoke. If that wasn’t a reason. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“And … Oh. Liv, that’s your choice. You shouldn’t change your mind about this just because of me.”

“It’s not a problem? Not a tiny bit?”

Serana laughed, and the next moment, Liv felt a pair of cool lips pressed against her cheek. Maybe it was just the cold, but she felt heat where Serana had kissed her. 

Hopefully Serana thought it was the cold that turned her cheeks red as an apple. 

“No. If you can love a thousand year old vampire, I can love a human.” 

“Hm …” Liv hesitated for a moment, then allowed herself to lean against Serana’s shoulder. The taller woman wrapped an arm around her. Even when her skin was cool, in the chilly cold near the Sea of Ghosts, it felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Good. Maybe this was what safety felt like. Liv wouldn’t know. But it was a nice thought. 

“So … you love me, huh?”

“Didn’t I say that before?”

“I think I’d remember if you did.”

“Maybe you misheard that. Maybe I said I could laugh about you or someth …”

“Oh, shut up, you.”

Serana laughed. “I’m pretty sure I meant what I said. Before.”

“About me too. I mean … that’s true. The part you said about me.” 

“I know.” 

Liv pulled a grimace. She would never get good at this stuff. For so long, it had just been her. The other people in her life, they never had had this important a role in it. Not even Sajjan, and she had cared about the Khajiit more than she probably should have.

But now? It felt … good, not to be alone. Maybe she could get used to it. 


	2. Welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lledana Hladu gets an offer she just can't refuse.

**3E 423, Cyrodiil**

 

The floor was drenched in blood where the body had collapsed. It had splattered on her boots, sullied her fingers. 

Lledana took a deep breath. 

That had gone … out of hand very quickly. Ten minutes before, they had laughed together, had celebrated a successful mission. Now he was dead in a puddle of his own blood. 

Lledana cast a glance over to the door. Still nothing. No steps, no voices drawing closer. She still had time. Good. If someone discovered her, covered in Valius’ blood … How was she supposed to explain what had happened? 

No, she had to get rid of the corpse, and now. And, while she was at it, of her bloody clothes as well. She could leave no trace of what she had done. They would never forgive her. 

Another deep breath, and grabbed the dead man’s hand, pulled him over the only window and threw it upon. No one would look behind the house, at least not too soon. It would give her enough time to get rid of the corpse for good. The blood on the floor was another matter. Lledana doubted that she could scrub it away in time. 

But maybe she didn’t have to. 

She stepped out of her boots and threw them out of the window, together with her bloodstained shirt. They landed atop of the dead man below, ready to be tended to once she was finished what had to be done. 

A moment later, she had grapped the dark carpet on the other end of the room and rolled it across the blood stain, covering it neatly. It would take the others a while before they realised anything was different. 

Enough time for her to get rid of the corpse and her bloody clothes for good and disappear. She could cover her involvement for a while but it was too dangerous to stay. Sooner or later, they would become suspicious. 

Lledana climbed onto the windowsill and jumped down, her descent slowed by a hastily cast spell. 

As soon as she had reached the ground, she sparked a flame from her fingertips. Both the corpse and the clothes burnt to ashes, with only blackened bones as a reminder of what had happened. 

Now all that was left was to bury them … 

Lledana awoke with a start. Underneath her pillow, her fingers curled around the hilt of her dagger. 

She was not alone. She could feel it; the chill creeping down her spine, as if she was being watched. 

The room was dark, and seemed empty, but she knew better than to trust her senses. Her instinct had often enough warned her of danger. 

Slowly, she rose from her bed, pushed the blanket aside. Her grip around the hilt tightened … 

“Sharp instincts are undoubtedly an asset for a murderer.” 

Lledana whirled around. Her eyes pierced through the darkness and yet couldn’t find the voice’s source. But she didn’t need to see him. When she spoke again, she would find him and end his life, before he could spread word of what she had done … 

But darkness parted suddenly before her, gave way to the robed figure of a man. His face mostly remained shrouded in the shadow of his hood, but she spotted dark eyes and a slightly hooked nose. 

“I would tell you not to be alarmed, murderer, were you not what you are.” His lips seemed to quirk into a dark smile. “I am Lucien Lachance, and I am here to offer you a place in our … rather unique family.”

Lledana didn’t answer. 

“You prefer silence? Then listen … I am a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, and I’m here because your unique talents have not gone unnoticed. I can offer you a life and a place where they will be nortured and flourish.” 

Lledana blinked. This man, this Speaker, had sought her out solely to offer her a place in the Dark Brotherhood? Of course she had heard of them. In Morrowind, they were almost non-present, for the Morag Tong had claimed their place there, but throughout the rest of Tamriel, wherever someone wished for the dead of someone else, they called for the Brotherhood. 

Quietly, of course. Her people were the only ones who truly had a legal assassin’s guild at their disposal. 

“Where’s the catch?”

“So you have found your voice. Ah, but there’s no catch. You have already proven that you have the heard and the nerve of a killer. What remains to be seen is if you can follow orders as well.” 

Lledana gave a curt nod, but did not lower her dagger. 

“Then listen, and listen will. On the road to Bravil there is the Inn of Ill Omen. There will you find a man by the name of Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family.” His hand vanished in the folds of his black robes, only to appear again, holding a deadly looking dagger. “Take the blade of woe. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your silence. Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we’ll meet again soon.” 

And with those words, he vanished, his cloaked figure once again melting with the darkness as though he had never been here in the first place.

But the weight of the new blade in her hand told Lledana otherwise. 

***

She had had a lot of time to think on her way to the Inn of Ill Omen. At night, she had sat at the campfire, staring at the blade of woe as she twisted it between her fingers and watched the light of the campfire reflected in its grind.

True, she had taken a life. She had taken it without a hint of remorse, had slit Valius’ throat before he could scream, as though she had been born to. It had felt strangely good when he bled to death at her feet, his insult to her family avenged. 

But could she do it again? She was already a murderer, but could she be an assassin. Could she take a life in exchange for gold? Could she kill some random person just because she had been ordered to do it? 

But still, instead of turning around and riding straight back to Imperial City, she followed the Green Road further. 

There was only one way to determine whether or not she was an assassin, or just a common killer. If she looked into this man Rufio’s face and could not end his life, then she would know that her place was not with the Brotherhood. Only then. 

The way the sign above the old wooden down creaked in the wind, the tavern really seemed to deserve its name. There was not another human or mer being or settlement in miles, and when she pushed the door open, the only person she saw was a tall Nord behind the counter, whose face visibly lit up when his eyes fell upon her. 

“Welcome to the Inn of Ill Omen! You want a room? We got plenty of rooms if you want one. Ain't nobody here 'cept old Rufio.”

“I glady take one.” Lledana delved her hand into her pockets, procuring a handful of septims. “Rufio?” She feigned ignorance. 

If she was to kill him, she better received as much information as she could about him.

“He's an old codger. Been living here for a couple of weeks now. If you ask me, he's hiding from something. But what do I care? He pays his tab. His room is downstairs, in what I like to call the Private Quarters. Use that hatch in the floor over there. But don't expect a warm reception.” 

Lledana nodded, and fished the room key from the counter. It might be the best if she waited for nightfall before she headed downstairs. She still didn’t know if she could be an assassin, but either way, leaving witnesses was never a good idea. She rather avoided being arrested - or outright executed. 

She waited upstairs in her room until she heard the soaring snores of what could only be the innkeeper before she snuck downstairs and over to the hatch that would bring her to the  _ private quarters.  _ A last glance above her shoulder assured her that the innkeeper was still fast asleep - as though his snoring hadn’t already done it - before she pried open the hatch and descended down the stairs. 

Rufio’s room was easy to be found, and the door not even locked. 

The old man sleeping on his bed did not even wake as she drew the blade of woe and treaded closer to his bed. He moaned in his sleep as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of his lair, unconsciously reacting to her presence but remained fast asleep. 

It was so easy. A single cut across his throat, and he slept forever. It flew from her fingers as though she had done nothing else in all her life. The moment the blade was drawn, there was no turning back.

He had not suspected a thing. Had not put up a fight. Had not struggled at all. One moment, he had slept for the next morning to come. Now he would never see the light of the next day. 

Lledana wiped the blade clean on the sheets and rose, sheathing the dagger once more. She’d be long gone before the Innkeeper realised Rufio was no more. 

The guards at the gates had barely spared a second glance. Word of Rufio’s death must not have reached them already, or they simply didn’t care about the murder of an old man deep in the woods. Whatever it was, it relieved her. 

She had left the Inn of Ill Omen soon after Rufio’s throat was cut, and while the innkeeper had still been asleep. In no hurry she had ridden for Bruma. The past nights, she had awaited Lucien’s return, but the wilderness obviously wasn’t a place he deemed secure, for she had slept through all of them. 

She did not believe he had simply forgotten about her. Her first murder had not gone unnoticed by the Brotherhood, however that was possible, and Rufio’s death certainly been noticed as well.

Lledana closed the door behind her and dropped her backpack next to her bed before she returned to the guest room to eat and drink a bit. It was too early still to head for bed, but she had never been more eager to lay down to sleep. The time seemed to stretch by until she finally could head back to her chamber without avoiding suspicion.

She had believed she would not be able to fall asleep fast, but as soon as her head hit the pillow, darkness engulfed her. The next moment, the bed creaked next to her and she bolted upright, fingers wrapped around the dagger. 

Right next to her, on the bed’s edge, sat a dark robed figure. Lucien Lachance. 

“So the deed is done. How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things. For you are now part of the family. Now heed these words. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio’s blood, the ink.”

“What is now expected of me?”

“As Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join this group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must go to the City of Kvatch, and open a hidden hatch in the ground that you will find behind the Inn  _ The Eight Blessings _ . There you will find a black door. Attempt to open it, answering thusly: Fear, my brother. You will then gain entrance.” 

Lledana inclined her head, signaling that she had understood. 

“Once inside, speak to Ravish-dar. He will see to it that you receive your first official contract.” Lucien Lachance rose from her bed. “We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I’ll be following … your progress. Welcome to the family.” 

And with those words, he vanished once more. 

 

For all the time Lledana had spend in Cyrodiil, she had not once set a food inside of the city of Kvatch. Lucky for her, the locals proved helpful enough, and pointed her to the Inn without further ado. 

She made sure no one was looking before she slipped behind the tavern, where several other buildings rose to shield her from the looks of nosy passersby. And true enough, as she knelt down, she discovered that a patch of grass looked slightly different from the rest. With nimble fingers she searched for a way to open it, and found a hidden ring hidden among the grass. 

A moment later, she had slipped down into complete darkness, feeling her way forward until she was greeted by a bloody red glow ahead. It was emanated by a black door, adorned with a scene picturing a human sacrifice in mesmerising detail.

For a moment, she stood there, unsure of what to do, her hand slowly extending to the door. As soon her fingertips touched its surface, the red engravings that run along it began pulsating, and a whispering low voice seemed to rumble and run through her. 

_ “What is the flavour of doom?”  _

“Fear, my brother.” 

The door cracked ajar in the middle, both its wing moving aside to vanish within the wall around. 

_ “Welcome home, sister.” _

 


	3. Foreign Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leselya finds beauty somewhere unexpected.

The Argonian raised a hand – scaly, with sharp claws for nails – and gestured her to follow, and she did.

They were deep in the midst of the bog, and green water licked at her boots at every step. The air smelled humid, and seemed to cling to her skin. A large dragonfly buzzed past her right ear, its silvery wings vibrating so fast they became almost invisible.

“I don’t understand.” A thick root protruded from the ground and forced her to step deeper into the brackish water to avoid dripping. Silt clang to the soles of her feet, almost as if not wanting to let her go. “Where are we headed?”

“It is hard to say in words. This is why I show you.” The Argonian woman did not turn around.

Leselya sighed. She should’ve expected that she would get nothing more out of her guide. One wrong word, misguided and ignorant, and here she was, amidst the deep wilds of Blackmarsh, with no idea where they were going.

She already regretted having ever uttered a word.

The Argonians had shown her nothing but kindness since she had arrived. True, some of them had been distrustful at first, but she couldn’t blame them for it. And they had mostly kept it to themselves.

But it seemed the teachings from her childhood run deep, and were rooted within her, despite of what she saw. Despite _knowing_ that, despite appearances, the Saxhleel were a real people. It was so hard to forget when words from her youth still rung in her ears …

So she asked no more and instead followed.

It took a while before she noticed the change.

The air still was humid and clang to her skin, but now it smelled … different. And then she saw the roots, thicker than her waste, and ahead of her, the tallest tree she’d ever seen. It stretched its branches and twigs against the skies as if wanting to embrace them, and if she concentrated enough, she could almost …

“Is this a hum?”

The Argonian woman had slowed down her steps, and now she turned around and placed a hand on the trunk so gently as if touching a newborn. A breeze whistled through the leaves, like a sigh, and needle sharp teeth flashed in the woman’s face.

“You say we are savage people, living in the roots. But look up. What do you see?”

And it struck her. “It isn’t merely a tree.”

The Argonian woman blinked, and with her free hand, she waved her closer. “The Hist calls to me, in a voice you cannot hear, not understand, but it wants me to share my visions. Take my hand.”

Leselya hesitated for a moment, but then she grabbed the Argonian’s hand.

She still stood in the sump, between the roots of the Hist tree, but behind it rose a giant structure to the sky. It was shaped like a pyramid, with steps leading up its side. People walked in its shadow, or along the steps – Saxhleel, all of them. They wore colorful robes and talked in a tongue she didn’t understand, and none of them seemed to notice her.

Then, they were all gone. As was the pyramid. The voices.

Leselya blinked. “I hear of these structures, the xanmeer. But I thought …”

“You think the Saxhleel do not build them, because we live in huts of mud. Imagine someone invades your home, takes your children away, lays them in chains and forces them to work. What does it to you, your people?” The Argonian woman shook her head, and sighed. “Culture is easily forfeit. So fickle. We lose it, but in the Hist, it lives. Can you say the same of your culture?”

Leselya looked up at the tree, sought its crown but it seemed to vanish in the skies above, as if the fine twigs weaved themselves with the clouds above. The pyramid, the xanmeer, was gone, but now the rocks and the hills behind the tree finally were given shape and in her mind, the giant structures rose again, majestic and beautiful.

“No.”

The Argonians were not primitive creatures living in the mud. They had no need to recreate the days old not because they lacked the mind, but because it was still there.

She’d been told from her earliest memory that these weren’t real people. Barely more than lizards who had learned to talk, but without any true understanding what the words entailed.

It was not hard to understand why they would think it. A simple glimpse showed scaly skin and a maw filled with needle sharp teeth. These showed whenever they spoke, and at first, it was hard not to stare, or even shudder at the sight.

But when she looked at the Argonian woman before her, there was nothing savage or primitive in her eyes, and they harbored an understanding that, perhaps, was unmatched by any other.


	4. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucien Lachance calls his Silencer back to Fort Farragut ...

3E 433

The Necromancer Celedaen is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment.

Before I assign you your next contract, my silencer, I ask you to return to Fort Farragut. There is something I wish to discuss with you in person.

Lledana summoned a flame into the hollow of her palm and burned the letter to ashes, before she turned away from the great oak tree and headed for the city gates.

It was the death of night; the black sky shrouded with clouds which extinguished the lights of moons and stars both. At this hour, she could see not a single person outside, only a pair of rather bored and tired looking guards at the gates. They didn’t even spare her a second glance when she passed by them.

Shadowmere awaited her behind a couple of trees, at a safe distance of the stables where no one was likely to found the extraordinary steed. Lledana run her fingers through the horse’s black mane, and her dark red, almost black neck, before she mounted her and gently nudged her into a galopp.

Shadowmere complied with a fiery huff and the dark forest around her became a blurry rush, trees and rocks and little farm houses and the distant dark remains of an Oblivion Gate blending into each other as distance melted away underneath black hooves.

Lledana held tight onto the horse’s mane, and kept her head low against the sharp winds that bit her cheeks and eyes. No ordinary horse was even remotely as fast as Shadowmere. Before she had been gifted her, the way from Chorrol to Cheydinhal had cost her weeks. With Shadowmere, however …

The clouds above her head began to part, allowing her to spot the crescent shape of Masser, when the sky reaching White-Gold Tower became visible in the distance. The downward slope of the valley drew near, and eventually the whole Imperial City gleamed white against the darkness of the night.

Shadowmere gallopped along the blurring roads, with only the large city remaining fixed point to Lledana’s right, and after maybe another hour, trees swallowed even its silhouette again as the horse thundered along the road leading to Cheydinhal. Lledana did not even have to show her the way - the steed seemed just as eager as her to return to her old master’s side, and found her way into the forests all on her own.

The sky only just started greying when Shadowmere eventually came to a halt, next to an old hollowed tree that held the secret entrance into Fort Farragut.

Lledana jumped from her back and hurried over to the hidden trapdoor, prying it open, and slipped through. Quickly, she started descending down the ladder until her feet met solid ground again.

A smirk ghosted across her lips. The dawn of the morning would give her an excellent excuse to stay within Fort Farragut until night fall. She had not expected being recalled to Lucien’s hide-out so soon again, so there had not been the opportunity to feed.

Lucien Lachance awaited her already, rising from his chair as soon as his gaze fell upon her, and his lips twitched into a smile that she knew was reserved for her alone. Her heart would’ve skipped a beat, if it were still beating. But her satisfied smirk grew into a bigger, happier smile at his sight.

She would rather burn to death than admit it to him, but she had missed him more than she had realized up to this moment. When he had told her that they would no longer speak in person, she had expected for months to pass until they would meet each other again.

And yet here she was, sooner than she had anticipated, and it was a more than welcome thing.

“You wanted to see me?”

Lucien inclined his head. “Yes. You see, as your last contract before our parting has not been very … pleasant, it would have been the wrong time to celebrate your promotion. I would see that changed.”

Lledana pushed the thought of Ocheeva’s jaw, dropping in disbelief of her deed, of Telaendril’s plead for mercy, of Gogron gro-Bolmog’s angered as well as betrayed scream from her mind. What was done was done. She couldn’t change it now, couldn’t bring them back. What did it help to dwell on it.

“Celedean was a very welcome change.”

“I knew it would be a contract after your liking. You always liked a challenge, if I remember correctly.”

“You know me too well.” She licked her lips. “How do you plan to celebrate my promotion, Speaker?” The contract on Celedean and Shadowmere had already been very gracious presents. Lucien certainly knew how to make a girl’s heart beat higher …

He took a full bottle of wine from the table he had been sitting on just moments before. “Your promotion deserves at least a toast, wouldn’t you agree? Hm …” He filled a crystal glass with the blood red liquor. “But I remember, you prefer something of more … substance. Come closer.”

Lledana stepped beside him, watching with growing curiosity as he protruded a vial from the folds of his midnight black robe, to fill a second crystal glass with red liquid, viscous and fragrant. She knew what it was without looking at it twice. The dark hunger awakening in her at the faint smell of copper told her enough.

Briefly, she thought that it meant she would have to leave earlier than she had hoped … But her hesitation was quickly blown away, when she felt her fingers itching after the red juice.

“To you, my Silencer.” He raised his glass, and dark eyes watched her as she did the same. “May your future within the Brotherhood be long and glorious.”

Lledana nipped at the blood, her eyes widening in surprise at how warm it still was, despite being held within a phial only moments before. Surprised - pleasantly - at its rich and full taste, so much more invigorating and stimulating than the dull, drained taste of the Beggar’s blood she so often had to feed on in order to avoid suspicion.

It brought warmth back into her cold fingers with every sip of it, and she almost believed to feel the echo of a heart that had stopped beating months ago.

“Very delicious. Where did you find it?” She set the emptied glass down, licked clean to savor even the last drop of it.

“A Speaker cannot tell all his secrets. Who would be the fun?” His free hand traced the line of her ears, fingers trailing down the side of her neck, and she felt herself shiver under his cool touch.

He tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ears, his finger lingering briefly on her cheeks before he let them sink. Not for a moment his dark eyes looked away, his gaze locked with hers, and in it …

“It’s a shame you ruined my plans for the day, Speaker.” She did not look away.

“How wicked you are.” His eyes flickered up, an eyebrow rising in recognition. “Do not fear. My next contract for you can wait another day, I am not in any hurry.” He looked at her, smiling. “Now … Tell me now, how did you dispose of Celedean?”

“I thought you’d already knew.”

“Oh, I do. But I enjoy hearing it from your lips, Lledana. I found your perspective to be very … inspiring.”

Lledana’s smile deepened. “Well, if you phrase it this way …” She licked the last remains of blood from her lips, and started telling.


End file.
